His Perfect Storyline
by xxStarBrightxx
Summary: "Vanessa was in every one of his movies. Sure, there were nods to Phineas, and Candace and his other friends and family members, as well...But no one appeared as consistently and deliberately as Vanessa." Ferb has found a way to acknowledge the woman he loves in his films, but will she see the hidden messages? Rating subject to change
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I got inspiration for this one in the shower (everyone knows this is where the best ideas are hatched!). I love love love this totally under-rated pairing, and I'm so excited to experiment with it! This chapter's kind of just an intro, and I'm not entirely sure where I want to go with the story, but I have some ideas. Let me know what you think!**

**Disclaimer: yeah, I don't own.**

Vanessa was in every one of his movies.

Sure, there were nods to Phineas, and Candace and his other friends and family members, as well. There was even one film staring a detective named "Perry", affectionately christened after his beloved pet platypus. But no one appeared as consistently and deliberately as Vanessa.

Or perhaps just not as subtly. For whenever the fancy struck him to give credit to someone in a film, that person knew it. Candace bragged for months that "her movie" had earned more at the box office than anyone else's had previously. Thankfully, she regarded (correctly) her namesake's villainous nature as a complement, having learned from her experience as being the antagonist in a film from an animation studio built so many years before.

When a person's name appeared in a new film, they understood this as being out of love. It was his personal way of showing appreciation, admiration, and affection. It was a big deal. In fact, it became an honor among the close-knit group. Each new member saw it as a right of passage, and everyone else understood it to be the director's way of saying "I love you".

When Vanessa appeared, however, it was out of something else. This manifested in the _way_ she appeared. Not just her name— only a small number of his productions featured a minor character that donned those three syllables—but _her_. An actress would be instructed to flip her hair in a particular fashion, or wear a costume resembling that signature black outfit she wore during the incidents in which he'd glimpsed her. Or perhaps Vanessa would influence a character's choice in music or her attitude. Maybe someone's silhouette could be coached to resemble her posture. It was this subtle, perhaps, because that was how he remembered her. A flitting presence, in and out of his life on tragically few occasions, who, years later, still caused him to do double-takes and glance around at complete strangers thinking (or hoping?) that it he'd seen her.

This was done, in part, to immortalize (and to some extent, idolize) her. He never wanted to forget this girl who had touched his life so briefly, yet so profoundly.

This is not to say that Vanessa was the only girl in his life. Or even the only girl he'd ever had feelings for. In fact there were a _plethora_ of girls that he'd been involved with over the years, due in no small part to his success, intelligence, suave nature, and indeed, his accent. Girls came with the territory, a perk he _thoroughly_ enjoyed.

Yet, he knew that these brief— and more often than not, shallow— affairs were a temporary phase. He did hope carve out a future, some day, along side a girl with whom he'd share a deep connection. Somehow, this future always seemed to remind him of his past.

In the back of his mind, he held a silent and tentative belief, that somewhere out in the world, she was watching. It was this belief—though he denied it to himself—that made him ponder, now and again, how things would be if she saw herself on screen. Late at night, his mind occasionally ran wild with fantasy: his beautiful childhood infatuation glancing at just the right time, to exactly the right spot on screen to see her character and miraculously, incredibly, understand the message. His perfect storyline ended with Vanessa seeking him out, swept off her feet at the thought of his devotion and creativity, and falling, as she had once before, into his waiting arms.

**SOOOOO…what do you think? Let me know- the faster you hit that review button, the faster the next chapter will be up! (You know, theoretically…)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who gave feedback on the first chapter! Your reviews made me smile **** So, here we go with chapter two- here's where things are gonna start to pick up…enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: you know the drill.**

He walked on set, ready to begin his day, studiously avoiding the gaze of a particular make-up artist with whom he'd spent the previous night. Sipping his coffee slowly (something he more out of habit than necessity), he observed the actors chatting amicably by the table where the catered breakfast sat.

He tapped his fingers nervously on his mug. Today was an important day for shooting. Today, they would film a scene that he could only hope (or perhaps dread) Vanessa would see. It was a last-ditch effort, in a way, because he was pushing his boundaries, making his intentions obvious. Today, he would direct the movements of the actors to blatantly mirror the people they represented. Today, they would repeat the words from their scripts, almost exactly as they had been said in reality several years before.

Today, they filmed the Eiffel Tower scene.

The actors took their places on set, and he gave the signal for action. Once the cameras began rolling, he couldn't easily stop it. In the back of his mind, he knew he could always cut the scene if need be, but he also knew he wouldn't. It needed to be done.

"I just don't know what to do," The lead actress mused, leaning against the railing and observing the city below (it was actually a green screen, but the final cut would show a beautiful city-scape of the famed City of Love).

"Well, sometimes," the man behind her said, tentative and wise. "if you love somebody, you have to meet them halfway." He could hardly watch the scene unravel before him, the flashback uncanny. His previous expectations that the actors would need instruction about how to emote properly were invalidated. The actress did not fall short of Vanessa's movements and charm, and the actor seemed to grasp the motivations of his character perfectly. In truth, it was a bit eerie. After all, he'd never told anyone about instance upon which the scene was based. It seemed like the world was shaking and he alone could feel the tremors.

The cameras followed the lead as he approached a vendor. When he returned, a single rose in his grip, the girl was gone. The man, forlorn, hung his head and let the rose fall, cameras zooming in on it for artistic emphasis.

The cast went through the scene a few more times, the director giving small suggestions here and there in order to make the emotions seem more organic (and more accurate), and eventually, he had enough footage that he was satisfied with the portrayal.

Outwardly, he was his usual calm self, though he waged an internal battle. On the whole, he was resolved to print the scene, knowing it added to the plot line as a whole, and knowing he needed to stop beating around the bush. It was an ultimatum of sorts; and he decided, even if nothing came of putting this scene out into the world, he would never again reference Vanessa. She had occupied his mind for so long, but it was time to let go, time to move on.

He was meeting her half way, but he refusing to go any further.

**A/N: Wow, two chapters up in one day, I even empress myself! Haha, just kidding. Anyway, check out my newest story, if you'd like ("Bullies, Nerds, and Rock 'n Roll"). It's not quite as eloquent as this, but I had fun writing it. As always, thanks for reading, please review! **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hey guys! Get ready for Ch. 3! This one's a little bit of a switch-up, so let me know how you feel about that ****. Thanks to everyone who subscribed, and thanks to ****humanusscriptor for reviewing (my only review **** so sad), I'm glad you like it. Please give me some feedback, guys!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

Vanessa smiled coyly at the government inspector eyeing her up from the other side of her desk. He was a stout, awkward man, who—in Vanessa's opinion—was not only under qualified, but altogether a laughable choice for this job. "We've received reports from your lower management about some qu-questionable trans-transactions…" He fidgeted as she feigned a look of surprised concern.

"Questionable transactions?" She repeated innocently. "Well there must be some mistake. I can assure you that Evil Incorporated is a perfectly legitimate and reputable corporation; we hold the esteem of this company in the highest regard."

The man glanced at his clipboard, searching for the incriminating numbers he'd been told to reference by his superior. His hands began to shake slightly as he searched in vain. Stalling, he tried to speak again. "I'm sorry, Ma'am—"

"Please," Vanessa leaned forward, flashing another smile and revealing the slightest amount of cleavage, prompting some red coloring to appear on the inspector's face. "Call me Vanessa." The man's blush deepened and he began to panic, unable to find the correct paper.

"V-Vanessa," he stammered. "It appears there's b-been a m-mistake." Vanessa cocked her head to the side, prompting him to continue. "I-I seem to have misplaced…I-I believe that we were misinformed." He got up hastily, knocking over the pen jar on her desk, scattering them over the floor. Vanessa remained seated, smiling calmly as the man rushed to pick them up. "Oh, I-I am sorry ma'am— Vanessa! I-I'll just be leaving. Thank you for your time."

"It was nice to meet you," she called as he shut he door clumsily behind him.

Vanessa paused a moment, making sure he was definitely gone, then stood up. She let out a light chuckle as she removed the papers from the underside of her desk. As she fed the incriminating forms through the shredder, her phone began to vibrate, a familiar tune sung by a quartet emanating from it. She picked up her phone, switching the shredder off with her free hand.

"Hey, Dad."

"Vanessa!" She smiled, hearing the happiness in her father's voice. "So, how did it go?"

"I took care of it," she said flippantly. "He was an amateur anyway. Honestly, I'm a bit disappointed with the caliber of investigative personnel they've been sending our way."

"Well, you know, Vanessa, I'm sure one day you're going to get a great nemesis. One who truly challenges you."

Vanessa rolled her eyes, laughing lightly at her father's attachment to his nemesis. "Dad, I told you before, I don't need a nemesis. I'm perfectly fine doing shady business without anyone trying to foil me. Why do you think I took the time to install the Incompetency-inator you gave me for Christmas over my door?" She glanced up at the red light blinking over her office entrance as she said this, remembering the look on the inspector's face when the beam of light hit him as he walked through the door.

"Well, you know, Vanessa, a good agent will avoid bursting in through the door…"

"Yes, Dad." Vanessa sighed. Just then, her phone beeped, signaling a call waiting. She decided to seize the opportunity to avoid a lecture. "I have to go, Dad, there's another call I have to take. I love you."

"I love you, too, Vanessa!" _Click._

"Evil Incorporated, financing your villainous schemes and tomfoolery since—"

"Vanessa, it's me," a familiar voice said, sounding exasperated.

"Oh hey, Johnny," Vanessa sat back down in her chair, relaxing. "What's up?"

"So, a bunch of us were gonna go catch a movie tonight—you game?" She could hear gunshots, clicking and dramatic music from the other line, indicating her friend's obsession with violent video games had not subsided over the years.

"I don't know, I've got a lot of work to get done," she stalled. "We're in the middle of a pretty big merger with L.O.V.E.M.U.F.F.I.N. and I have to make sure that all of the embezzling and fraud is properly executed."

"Oh, come on, Vanessa!" A loud explosion emanated from her receiver. "Damn aliens," he muttered. "You're such a workaholic! When's the last time you went out? I mean really—what's the last movie you saw?"

"Johnny, I have this thing call a _job_. Sorry I don't have time to go out an party every weekend."

"You can't even remember, can you?" Vanessa sighed. "_Come on_," he urged. "The reviews are really good—it's not just some dumb action movie."

"Oh, really?" Her voice betrayed her skepticism.

"Yes, really! Jesus, it's by that really good director—what's his name…?"

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Fine. What's the movie about, anyway?"

"Well, the trailers had a ton of explosions and chase scenes and shit, but I think there's like a love story in there or something. I don't know, but the director's really good. He's done some pretty badass anti-hero flicks." Vanessa leaned back in her chair, one hand rubbing at her temple, where a slight headache was starting to throb.

"Anti-hero, huh?" she said absent-mindedly.

"Yeah, it's when you wanna root for the main guy, but he's actually the bad guy and—"

"I know what it means." She paused, remembering something. "What'd you say the director's name is?"

**A/N: So I hope you enjoyed this new POV! Let me know what you think. I was a little hesitant to write this one, 'cause I wasn't sure if I could really figure out her character. So give me some feedback! Please **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey everyone! I'm glad to see people liked my last chapter! I'm loving the reviews. **_**Phineas and Ferb Fan 107**_**- sorry about the language, it just seemed to fit, but I'll stay away from it from now on. **_**DizzyPirate**_**- yeah, it is a little shocking; I actually went through two other possible scenarios in my head before deciding on this one. It seemed the most fitting. Also, you get a bit of a backstory (see what I did there?) in this chapter to explain why she's working for him.**

**So without further ado: chapter 4!**

**Disclaimer: You know the drill.**

Johnny tapped a finger against the top of his wrist, giving Vanessa a scolding look.

"Sorry I'm late," she said to placate him. Johnny pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and beckoned her to follow the group into the theater. The group consisted of mostly couples, an almost sickening—albeit not uncommon—sight in Vanessa's opinion. It only meant that she would have to sit next to Johnny, as they all elected to sit next to each other, and the rest of the theater was surprisingly packed. "I guess this movie's a pretty big deal, huh?" Vanessa mused aloud.

The lights began to dim as they took their seats. A preview rolled for a new animated kid's movie, its imaginative characters entertaining Vanessa briefly, until its colorful whimsy was replaced by a promo for a new video game. She glanced over at Johnny, to her right, his enthralled expression visible in the light of a sizeable explosion.

Sitting next to Johnny was not awkward. On the contrary, it felt quite normal. The pair had long since outgrown and gotten over their brief romantic stint in high school. Ultimately, they had decided that they were just far too different—Vanessa claimed a difference in their maturity levels, Johnny simply thought they had a different sense of humor—to survive in a relationship. They each had to work too hard to impress the other, so they gave up. As friends, though, the two of them got a long fine, and found they complemented each other quite well.

Finally, the screen went completely black, signaling that the film was probably about to start. Vanessa tried to discreetly check her Blackberry to see how things were going back at the office, but Johnny caught her.

"Oh come on, Vanessa," he said, exasperated. "Jeez, you used to be so embarrassed to even be _near_ your dad, now his company is dominating your life—give it a rest!"

Vanessa pocketed her device and scowled. "I've grown up, Johnny," she snapped. She didn't want to be rude, but his comment had cut a little too close to home for her liking.

He was right, in fact. Vanessa could easily remember a time when she would have shuddered at the thought of working alongside her awkwardly eccentric father. But things are different now, she reassured herself. And maybe she was a little different now, too.

When Vanessa first joined her father in "the family business", as he began calling it the minute she started, she did so begrudgingly. She was fresh from a dismally failed band career, with a mere semester's worth of college education under her belt. Her mother had nudged her, none too gently, to find a paying job, at the risk of losing any monetary support. In an act of near heroism—and in an attempt to take advantage of a situation that would allow him to become closer to his "little girl"—Vanessa's father had stepped in and offered a paid internship. Seeing an opportunity to bridge the familial gap between the two, as well as a chance for Vanessa to make a little cash, Carlene had agreed, though she questioned where Heinz would get the funds.

After several explosive arguments with her mother (the phrase "But, he's evil!" got tossed around more than a couple times), a few slammed doors, and a final threat to cut her off financially, Vanessa conceded. Her father was elated, of course, at the idea of his daughter following in his evil footsteps, but Vanessa was far from enthusiastic. She would groan dramatically when sent on an errand to pick up blueprints, or dust –inators, edit backstory speeches, or set up traps. Eventually, however, she settled into a routine, reminding herself that it was only a temporarily position until something a bit more glamorous came along.

Still, she began to excel at certain things. She was surprised to find out that she was _good _at this new role. Not to mention she loved anything that challenged her physically; adventures to find rare parts for a new –inator, acts of espionage towards competing villains, and one time, breaking into Danville's museum to steal a rare gem that would power Doofenshmirtz Evil Incorporated for over a year.

It was after this incident that Vanessa began to take note of the business's financial state. Without the electricity bill to pay (which in the case of Doofensmirtz Evil Incorporated and its considerable stock of energy-sucking –inators, was exceedingly high), a large portion of Carlene's alimony checks could be delegated to other investments. Behind her father's back, Vanessa had pooled the money and used it to fund a venture on a risky endeavor—a bank heist pulled off by the most experienced and talented criminals she could dig up. Though she never admitted it to her father, she did help out a bit when it came to the actual robbery (she still couldn't resist those adrenaline rushes).

Now armed with a sizeable amount of cash, Vanessa began to expand their business, funding more profitable crimes and a fair amount of fraud—more than occasionally, she assisted with the actual crime. Somewhere along the line, she began to overtake her father's evil business, even dropping the name "Doofenshmirtz" from the title to make it sound more professional. Heinz's mediocre attempts at ruling the Tri-Staten Area, trite pranks, and misguided attacks on local businesses that had somehow insulted, annoyed, or otherwise irritated him were cast aside. He still engaged in these exploits (and was still foiled by the same platypus), but Vanessa's management of Evil Incorporated focused on larger, more profitable schemes. Before she knew it, Vanessa had gone from a teenager with an attitude and some minor mischievous deeds, to a full-blown evil mastermind.

Heinz was proud as could be. He even remarked one day, patting her on the head as she scribbled away at endless financial forms, her mind running a mile a minute, "You've got evil in your blood, Vanessa! It's so great to see you taking after your old man!" She had stiffed at that, taken aback momentarily. But she smiled pleasantly at her father, agreeing demurely. She was shocked to realize that her biggest objection to his statement had not been the assertion that she was evil, but the implication that she was following in her father's footsteps.

She was already miles ahead.

Above Vanessa, the movie's opening credits began to roll over a dark, macabre scene. A young woman could be seen slumped against a dirty wall, chains holding her up by the wrists, her eyes drooping, with bruises visible on the right side of her face. A man leaned down, face even with hers. "You're no threat, are you?" he sneered, brandishing a knife. "A pretty little thing like you couldn't possibly pose any risk to my interests…" He used the point of the knife to force her chin upward, eliciting a grimace from his victim. "In fact, you seem pretty pathetic to me."

The woman's eyes flashed, the first bit of emotion she's shown so far. Then she spoke, her voice surprisingly strong and full of conviction: "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

**A/N: Oh, metaphors…. Anyway, I hope you liked Vanessa's "backstory" there! Review please! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews! Please keep it up— it makes me smile **** DizzyPirate—I guess we'll just have to agree to disagree on that topic, haha. At least for the purposes of this story, making her evil just worked, but more on that later ;) 14AmyChan—actually no, he's not directing PnF. They're just a bunch of different movies, but he pulls from his life for inspiration, and the Paris scene was the most obviously linked to his life, and also a message to Vanessa if she ever sees it (which, of course, we know she does).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except for **_**My Espresso**_**, I pulled that out of my—**

For the life of him, he could not remember why _My Espresso _seemed like a good place to meet his brother. Phineas practically bounced in his seat, eyes darting about the shop, talking at a mile a minute. But the man across the table just sat, nodding slowly, taking measured sips from his coffee as he did so.

"...but we still don't want to be far from Mom and Dad. I suppose we could always move here, near you—Oh!" Phineas nearly fell off his chair; he was so overcome with excitement. "Wouldn't that be cool, bro? It's so sunny in L.A.—it'd be like summer all the time! Oh man, it'd be just like old times. But then again, it's pretty crowded, I don't know if I'll have enough space for everything. Of course, we could always settle down outside the city. Or I could build something that would help with the space issue—some sort of shrinking device maybe…" Phineas prattled on, but his companion merely observed, noting that it was pretty easy, especially with the aid of caffeine, to visualize the ten-year-old boy underneath the tall, lanky man. Phineas never really grew up, in that sense. He still had the enthusiasm and creativity of a child—one of the qualities he most admired in his best friend.

Yet he found himself preoccupied. He still listened, of course—he'd always been a skilled multitasker—but some uncomfortable thought tugged at the corner of his consciousness, refusing to be ignored. It had not escaped his knowledge that today was the day his most recent film hit most major theaters. The premier last night had been a tremendous success, made even better by the presence of his family and friends. But today was what _really_ mattered. The day when the public would purchase tickets, sit down, watch, and judge his movie. He would have to listen to reports about the box office ratings and the amateur reviews. This would determine many of the factors for his next project, including producer backing.

But that was not what concerned him. What concerned him was the idea that somewhere, it could very well be _her_ purchasing one of those tickets, sitting down in a theater seat, and watching his movie.

He could picture it: her holding a bag of popcorn in one hand and a ticket stub in the other. He wondered momentarily if she would be going with anyone to see this movie; a date perhaps…

He wondered if she would like it. Would she notice the subtle nuances in the camera direction and the symbolism in the storyline and prop usage? Would she notice the scene, taken directly from their personal history together, and interpret its intended message?

Most of all, he wondered if she would see it. If she did not see the movie, did not hear those lines… then she would never know.

Phineas literally jumped a foot into the air when his phone suddenly began to ring, a chipper, catchy tune filling the air.

"_Gitchee Gitchee Goo means that I love you!"_

"Hold on, bro," he stood up, grabbing his phone and heading towards the door. "gotta get this." He put the phone to his ear as he pushed open the door, sending the sound of bells tinkling through out the shop. "Oh, hi Isabella…Well, I think I know what we're gonna do in seven months and five days. How do you feel about L.A.?"

He waited patiently for Phineas to return, slowly finishing off his coffee. He could see his brother through the shop window. He talked animatedly, waving around his free hand, a bright, wide smile lighting up his face.

He'd never envied his brother anything before. The attention he'd received as a child was sufficient for him, despite what anyone thought. He was quite content working silently alongside his effervescent brother, stage right to the limelight. Being the center of attention was never his style, anyway.

He did not envy his brother's instant success in his career as an inventor; he was satisfied with his own vocation. Nor did he envy the way people were continually drawn to his charismatic persona. Phineas was a remarkable person, he thought, and he deserved every bit of the recognition and success he achieved.

But if he were to envy anything of his brother's, it would be the ease of Phineas's romantic endeavors.

There had never been anyone else for Phineas but Isabella. As soon as Phineas began to show any inclination towards girls, Isabella had been there— and she never left. They rarely— if ever—fought, and their fierce loyalty and devotion to one another was incredible. On more than one occasion, someone's girlfriend or boyfriend would see them together and point them out remarking that they wished their significant other was that ardent.

Not to mention the fact that they were the best of friends. The brothers remained close, of course, but the bond between Isabella and Phineas grew stronger as years past, and he had gracefully stepped aside to give the couple space. Not that he could complain. He had his own interests to occupy him.

Despite this, at his core he'd always been a deep romantic. His infatuation with Vanessa had never really waned over the years. So seeing his brother's carefree romance was a little difficult for him. But only a little. Because more than anything, he was happy that his friend was happy. That was all that mattered.

He set his drained coffee down on the table, as Phineas re-entered the shop, bursting with news. As he sat down, he placed his phone on the table, and one next to it began to vibrate. He glanced at it, recognizing his agent's number, no doubt to report on the most recent box office figures. He picked it up, nodding to his brother in apology as he walked outside to answer it.

He was unaware that, at that moment, several hundred miles away, Vanessa, too, was picking up he phone.

**A/N: It's about to get really rolling soon! Review, pretty please :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey guys! Chapter 6, comin' at cha! Thanks my to reviewers from the last chapter. 14AmyChan— I actually meant it to be a reference to when Johnny called her to suggest seeing the movie, but that gave me some inspiration for this chapter. See guys—reviews have a real effect! So make sure you review! Lol**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phineas and Ferb, though I did get to Skype with Bob Iger (CEO of Disney—fangirl squeal!)**

It was a strange thing, to have one's life thrown into such focus so violently (yet so eloquently!). Vanessa sat alone at her desk, still mulling over the implications of last night.

She hadn't expected it. In fact, she was hardly paying attention to the movie (she checked her phone intermittently, her mind still back at the office. Though whenever she did pause to look at the screen, she had to note that the quality of the film was superb) when some familiar words cut through her revere and hit close to home. Her head snapped up and she watched as a long forgotten scene from her past played out in front of her.

"I just don't know what to do," The lead actress mused, leaning against the railing and observing the city below. It was Paris. The characters were perched on top of the Eiffel Tower; a romantic view of the City of Love sprawled below them. Vanessa blinked a few times, as if to see if her eyes were deceiving her.

"Well, sometimes," the man behind her said softly. Vanessa put a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp. "if you love somebody, you have to meet them halfway."

"Who's the director again?" she whispered frantically to Johnny as the man on screen moved to retrieve a rose. Her eyes widened and she felt a pang of guilt when he returned to find the vacant spot by the edge of the rail. _Was that really…?_ _"Johnny!"_ she half-whispered urgently, but he brushed her off.

_"Shh_—I'm trying to watch here," he scolded. Then with a sigh, "I don't remember—just look it up or something."

Sure enough, moments later, a quick internet search on her blackberry revealed the name from her past. A name she hadn't thought of in years. Now, it would not leave her mind. It was haunting to know that that particular scene—that snapshot from their childhood had stuck with him for so long.

She wasn't quite sure why this was having such an affect on her. It was just a movie after all. And directors and writers were known to pull from their own experience. It probably didn't mean anything.

But there was something about that scene that tore her up inside. She found herself in a state of near panic—but she was at a loss to explain why. It wasn't until she walked into work the next day that she figured it out.

That particular moment was exemplary of the time in her life when she felt so strongly about her own ideals. She'd been discouraged by her father's obsession with his work, and she pushed firmly in the opposite direction. She used to decry his "evil" schemes. She tried desperately, to not only block out her father and his eccentric habits, but to push down the fear that would creep up: a fear that, because she was his daughter, this evil could be a part of her too.

Now that she had let that part of her consume her, it was difficult to look back and see the idealistic girl she used to be. Moreover, it gave her pangs to hear the well-intended words from a wise source. She hadn't realized until now what he really meant. He was not advising her to take an interest in his work, as she had believed. He believed she should accept her father as a person and as a dad, to forgive him for working too much. He was only human, after all.

Instead, she thought, looking around her spacious, extravagant office, she overtook his business and continued to ignore him. She'd pushed him to the side while she profited herself.

And that, she believed, was the most evil thing she'd done.

She swore under her breath and stood up. She began to pace, trying to figure out some way to assuage her guilt and make things right. It seemed imperative that she find a way to redeem herself. But she was at a loss as to how.

She jumped slightly when her door opened. Her assistant entered her office, a stack of folders in her arms. "Miss. Doofenshmirtz, I have those files you asked…" She paused, catching sight of her boss's distressed expression. "…for."

Vanessa blushed slightly, but stood up straight, maintaining her authority. "I'll take those," she said, reaching to gather the papers. Then, as an afterthought she added, "Thanks." She turned to lay the papers on her desk, but her assistant remained rooted to the spot.

"Umm, ma'am, is everything okay?" she asked tentatively. Vanessa hesitated—she was never one to show weakness.

"I got some advice from someone once," she murmured, her back still to her assistant. "Someone who really knew what they were talking about. And I'm releasing now that I didn't quite follow it." She paused. "And now I'm not sure to how to make things right."

Her assistant was a bit perplexed. Given the nature of their business, she never expected her boss to ever want to make anything "right". Still, she pondered the issue for a moment, feeling a pang of sympathy for the woman before her. "Well, if it was good advice before, it probably still is now. Maybe you should ask that person for a little more advice." Vanessa blinked, considering these words. She turned around, but by then her assistant had already left.

Her first instinct was to dismiss this suggestion. It had been years since she'd last seen the boy, and she had no way of getting in contact with him. It wasn't like she could just look him up in a phonebook (figuratively speaking, of course, who uses phonebooks now-a-days?). He was a famous movie director, and a notably private person at that. Direct contact was probably very limited.

Besides, she didn't just want to talk to him. From what she remembered, he spoke very sparingly, instead communicating through his actions. As evident through the scene in the movie, she mused. That thought struck her for a moment. _What if…?_ She suppressed the idea immediately, though became suddenly much more fervent that she must find a way to see him.

On a hunch, she reached for her phone and began scrolling through her contacts, looking for a specific name. This was also a long shot, seeing as she's spoken to this person even less in the past. Not to mention that she had no idea if the number in question would still be associated with the contact. Still, there was a possibility…

_ There_. She couldn't believe it. Illuminated on her screen was perhaps her only link to this boy from the past:

_Candace Flynn_

**A/N: They're so close! Stick with it guys—I know it's been a little slow going, but it'll pay off, I promise. Please, pretty please review! Also, requests/suggestions are always welcome; I get writer's block kinda easily. **

**PS I hope everyone had a happy and safe Halloween!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, I got really distracted finishing up **_**Bullies Nerds and Rock 'n Roll**_** (check it out if you haven't already!), but now I can focus on giving you guys some Ferbessa awesomeness! **

**Thank you again to all my reviewers **** Keep 'em coming, guys, you have no idea how much they brighten up my day. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. (Except a PhF themed folder, which a cute guy complimented me on today—soul mates? I think so.)**

The rental car had a funny smell to it. Vanessa wrinkled her nose as she shifted into third. She had asked for an automatic, but there was a mix up. When she arrived at the rental company, neither the baked teenager with red-rimmed eyes nor the homely woman who required two chairs to support her massive frame could tell her what had happened to her reservation. Evidentially subtle threats and her most menacing glare were not enough to spark enough fear or inspire action into the blank stare of the woman who, by Vanessa's estimation, probably would not know the difference anyway. She huffed out a breath, blowing her hair out of her face. Stupid people are so hard to scare.

She glanced down at the address she had hastily scribed on a post-it forty-eight (Vanessa checked the radio clock), no, fifty hours before. She nodded to herself; she was heading in the right direction.

She felt a sense of urgency, and wanted more than anything to reach her destination sometime before she qualified for discounted movie tickets, but traffic was rapidly coming to a standstill and she was forced to sit back and watch the sunlight dim over the city. She could not quite place a finger on the reason for her wanting to speed ahead. She began this crazy journey with a fair amount of adrenaline pumping through her veins, but by now she should be overcome with exhaustion. Two and a half days without sleep could hardly be cured with the one cup of coffee she'd purchased a few hours ago at a drive-through.

Some part of her wondered why she did not just stop at a hotel and continue in the morning. But no, Vanessa knew she had to see him. She had to get some answers and solve this contrition weighing on her shoulders before it broke her. So she continued along, replaying the conversation she'd had with his sister over and over in her mind, attempting to foreshadow the reception she would receive from her childhood acquaintance.

At first Candace had blathered on, remarking how it'd been so long and they should really catch up sometime. Sometime when she was less busy, that is. Vanessa recalled how twice the conversation was interrupted by the sound of a shrill young girl's voice ("Mommy, he won't _do_ anything! Babies are so _boring_!"), and Vanessa could only pace faster around her office, waiting not-so-patiently for a chance to ask for the information that was the intention behind her call.

Finally, she was able to breach the topic of Candace's brother, but that only prompted more rambling from the other line about failing to "bust" them (Was she really still obsessed with that? Vanessa had wondered.) but eventually conceding that they were adults now and that she no longer had control over their actions. Besides, both young men were vastly successful in their respective fields, with bright futures, etc. etc.

After roughly eleven straight minutes of this particular rant, Vanessa finally interrupted, "Actually, Candace, as much as I would love to catch up, I'm kind of in a hurry…" She tried her best to keep her agitation from creeping into her voice, but old habits die hard.

Candace handed over her stepbrother's contact information with surprisingly few questions. A simple, "I'm going to be in the area and I might stop by if I get a chance…" was enough to ward off prying questions. Apparently, traveling halfway around the world with someone established enough of a bond to justify a surprise visit years later, regardless of that person's celebrity status.

When she hung up, there was no thought of formulating a plan of some sort. Running on pure impulse, she ordered her assistant to book her a flight to Los Angeles, notified her business associate that their weekly meeting would have to be postponed, placed a reservation with the rental car company (in retrospect, choosing the first business that appeared in her search engine may not have been the best idea), and, four hours earlier than usual, walked out of her office. As the door swung shut behind her, she glanced back briefly, and some small voice in the back of her mind questioned how long it would be until she sat in that chair again, formulating schemes and elaborate plots. Another infinitesimal fragment of her subconscious seemed to recognize the possibility that, in fact, she may never return.

Gradually, the car in front of her began to accelerate. "Finally," she muttered under her breath. Almost an hour later, her destination came into view. She blinked in awe at the sight of the impressive estate.

Definitely English inspired, the manor managed to look intimidating as well as welcoming at the same time. A certain cheerful whimsy wove through its features; an extraordinarily vibrant garden framed the entrance, and a colorfully lit back patio was only just visible from the angle at which Vanessa approached the house. Yet it still managed to retain a sort of classic charm. Its appearance seemed entirely appropriate, considering the nature of its owner.

It was the moment she pulled up to the gate when she realized that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She had no appointment, had given no prior notice of her visit; not to mention her timing was hardly appropriate. She looked out her window, about to tell the gatekeeper that she'd made a mistake and was leaving, but stopped short when she realized there was no one there. Instead, a green wave of light rolled over her car, temporarily blinding her. It must be a sort of scanner, she deduced. Seconds later, much to Vanessa's disbelief, the gate swung open, allowing for the passage of the tiny rental car. She decided not to question why this security system would grant her access, but slowly began to creep up the shadowy driveway.

Once she was parked, she made her way up the colorful cobblestone path, her heartbeat increasing with every step. Now that she was closer, she couldn't help but notice the amount of detail on the exterior of the house. Its face seemed to capture every color at once; even in the darkness Vanessa could pick out the lovely shade of green that complemented the garden around her. While it was all so elegant, there was a certain modernity in its design. Vanessa could not help but be impressed, and even felt a certain amount of pride. Clearly, the boy's technical savoir-faire and creative genius had not faded with time.

She knocked three times on the sleek, handsome front door. When it opened, she was forced to stifle a gasp.

She expected a butler or maid of some sort to greet her and inform her of a more suitable time to arrange a meeting. She had not expected the man of the estate to open the door himself. In fact, she realized, she hadn't expected a man at all. For some reason, the image of a young, silent yet adventurous boy from her memory pervaded after all of this time; she simply hadn't considered the fact that, in the years since she'd last seem him, this boy had grown up.

The slim, green haired man who stood before Vanessa was at least a head taller than her. His clothes were simple despite the fact that everything else about his surroundings seemed quite extravagant. He stood straight, with an air of benevolent poise, and while the dark circles beneath his eyes and trail of thin stubble along his jawline hinted at exhaustion, his unchanged deep blue eyes betrayed his shock. With a hint of embarrassment, Vanessa suddenly felt very much aware of her haggard and, quite possibly, disheveled appearance, courtesy of her own nerves and inability to sleep on planes.

"Ferb?" She stepped forward, wondering if he recognized her. The man blinked, and very slowly, an uncharacteristically wide smile spread across his normally impassive face.

"_Vanessa."_

End of Part One.


	8. Chapter 8

Part Two

Ferb welcomed Vanessa into his home without question. He could plainly see her exhaustion, so he invited her to make herself at home in the living room while he fixed some tea. She took note of her surroundings while she waited. The was large and spacious. The furniture and decorations looked expensive, though sparse. It was clearly a bachelor pad. Her eyelids began to drop, but she stayed alert as he returned with two mugs in his grasp.

"Don't you have maids or something to do that for you?" she asked without thinking. He just shook his head and handed her a mug. "Well you've certainly done well for yourself," she continued, gesturing around the room with her free hand. He blinked in response, waiting.

Vanessa sighed as she attempting to gather her muddled thoughts. Her mind felt so fuzzy from lack of sleep. She took a sip from her mug and felt the warmth flow through her. She closed her eyes, enjoying the flavor.

After a moment, she set the mug down on the coffee table and addressed her companion once more. "I'm sorry to barge in like this, I'm not really sure why I rushed here…" Ferb moved closer to her—an infinitesimal shift, but distinct; Vanessa took it as encouragement. "I saw your movie," she said. She could not be sure, but for a moment she thought she saw something spark in his eyes. "You know, the one with that Paris scene?" He nodded. "And, well, I'm not sure if you intended this, but it reminded me about when we were in Paris." She looked down at her mug, still uncertain if this was a good idea. "Well, I realized something…"

Ferb's eyes widened with anticipation. This night was real, and it so closely mirrored the storyline he'd dreamt up every time he thought of her. She was sitting right next to him like she belonged there. Now, he would have a chance to woo her, like he'd never had before. He would treat her so well, and it would be so lovely, because they could be together now. It was truly a wonderful moment.

And it was far, _far_ too wonderful to be true.

"I never really took your advice," she said. "you know, about my dad. And it's just that…I've made some mistakes, and I may need your advice again." She glanced at his face, looking for affirmation. He nodded, encouraging her to continue.

He listened intently as Vanessa spoke of her past, and of the epiphany his movie had inspired. He'd always been a good listener, and she delighted in the fact that she could open up to him. She felt so comfortable talking, on and on, while he listened. His wise, knowing eyes would blink every once in a while, and she would continue on until, at some point, she realized she'd told him everything.

Vanessa sat back and blinked. A sudden thought struck her, "Oh my God," she put a hand to her lips and chuckled. "I'm rambling just like my Dad." Abruptly, she was overcome with laughter at the irony of the situation. Vanessa laughed for a few solid minutes; tears sprang to her eyes.

After a moment, she took a deep breath, sinking into the couch. Her fatigue was catching up to her. "You're a really good listener, Ferb," she muttered, her eyes half-lidded. He sat back on the couch, so that their eyes were level. He blinked slowly. "I really appreciate this…"

Her features looked so soft in the dim lighting. Ferb drank in her appearance, studying everything he'd missed seeing after all of these years. He admired the gentle slope of her nose, the exquisite way her hair fell over her shoulders. He looked into her eyes and realized just how much he'd forgotten about them after being separated for so long. He'd known they were blue, but he'd forgotten the shade; they were the deepest, most overwhelming shade of blue. Their faces were so close. He could reach over and touch her cheek. He could lean in slightly, just a little, and he could kiss her. He could, if she were any other girl.

"Ferb?" Her tired voice sounded curious and full of wonderment, like a child's. "What's you're name short for?"

He glanced away, smiling faintly. "Well, actually, it's short for…" He trailed off, noticing her eyes close gently and her breathing slow. His smile deepened and he stood up, ever so carefully, so as not to disturb her. With a hint of reluctance at having to move her sleeping form, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted, slowly, carefully. He carried her into his room and laid her down on the bed. Gently, he removed her boots, one by one, placed them on the floor by the bed, then reached down and pulled the blankets up around her.

Ferb paused before taking a pillow from the other side of the bed, intent on returning to the couch for the night. Just before he turned out the light, he stole one last glance at the girl he'd once fallen in love with.

"Goodnight, Vanessa," he said softly.

**A/N: It's so short, I know. But there is more to come— Ferbessa all the way!**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed before! Please keep reviewing, guys, I might need a little help figuring out what comes next…plus, I want to know if you liked it **

**I do not own Phineas and Ferb.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Hey all! Thank you for the reviews, I always love to hear it **** Sorry for a bit of a delay, but I'm hoping to update this a lot more frequently now that **_**Bullies, Nerds, and Rock 'n' Roll **_**is over ( **** )**

**Disclaimer: I'm not nearly as cool as Dan and Swampy…**

A high-pitched whistle woke Vanessa. With a start, she sat straight up in the bed that did not feel like her own, alarmed that her environment was completely foreign to her. Slowly, the events of the past few days returned to her consciousness, and as her mind began to fill in the blanks, she slowly rose, analyzing her surroundings.

The room was simply laid out, keeping with the masculine theme of the house (she had ascertained that Ferb must have brought her in the room some time after she fell asleep. She felt she should be more concerned with what else he may have done while she was out, but this was Ferb, here. She may not have seen him in years, but she knew him well enough to trust his character). The bed was large and felt comfortable, despite the fact that she was still wearing her office clothes. A broad mirror hung above the dresser across from the bed, and she caught a glance of her appearance. She frowned, noticing how her hair stuck up in random directions, and attempted to brush through it with her fingers before pulling on her boots and making her way out of the bedroom to find her host.

Vanessa found herself in a long hallway, barren but for one doorway that led into the entrance foyer. "Ferb?" she called out softly, but with no answer. She made her way through the sitting room in which they'd shared a long conversation the previous night. She pushed open a door across from the couch where they had been sitting to reveal a lavish kitchen. The black countertops gleamed, rows upon rows of cookbooks perched atop the cabinets, and a grand island took up the middle of the room, behind which, Ferb stood, his back to her.

She smiled as she stepped into the room, catching a whiff of something delicious as her stomach growled loudly. Ferb spun around to face her, spatula in hand and an apron tied neatly around his waist. He smiled softly as her watched her enter the room and gestured at a stool behind the island.

Vanessa gracefully took her seat and Ferb offered to pour her some tea from the kettle that had been the source of the noise that woke her up. She accepted with an amiable, "Thanks, Ferb." She sipped at the tea for a moment, then set it on the counter, a though occurring to her. "Don't you have to go to work or something?" she asked. Ferb frowned and shook his head. "Oh yeah, you're movie did really well, didn't it? You probably don't ever have to work again," she quipped.

"Actually, I—" Toast popped up behind him, cutting off his sentence. He waved his hand in the direction of the food.

"I would love some," Vanessa said, enthused.

The pair ate their breakfast cheerfully. Vanessa chattered happily while Ferb nodded, absorbing her every word and basking in her company.

"Is this some sort of British recipe?" she inquired at one point. "I don't think I've ever had eggs like this. They're really good."

"Oh goodness, no," Ferb stated, unabashed. "British food is absolutely dreadful. This is my own recipe."

"Well," Vanessa said with a smirk. "You're British, aren't you? Wouldn't that make your own recipes, by extension, British?"

He chuckled lightly. "Well, I don't really consider myself a Brit or a Yank. I'm just Ferb."

Vanessa laughed. "Wow, what's got you so chatty?" He never heard her laugh before. He decided he liked it very much.

"Well Ferb, you sure know how to play a good host," she said. "I should head out though, I don't want to impose." Ferb nodded, a flicker of disappointment appearing in his eyes.

"I really enjoyed this, though," Vanessa continued. "I really think…I really think this was good for me, you know? I needed some time away from…well, from myself." She glanced up at Ferb and smiled. "I think I'll be sticking around for a few days, though. We should really get together." Ferb nodded, then extended him arm so that he could walk her to the door. "What a gentleman," she murmured, slipping her arm through his.

So she had not gotten her advice after all. Yet, she felt an enormous weight off her shoulders. As she drove away, intent on finding a decent hotel not too far from her friend's estate, she conceded that, while she still had some work to do, the way that Ferb had been able to transport her back to that time when she felt confident in her attitudes made her breath easier. She most definitely planned to see him again. He had a way of opening her up so that she could express her darkest insecurities and deepest thoughts and not feel at all vulnerable.

Not only that, but she knew she needed to talk with him more. _With_, him—not _to_ him. Whenever Ferb decided, however regrettably infrequently, to say something, it was always a clever, meaningful statement: something that needed to be said. It was what made his advice—and his friendship—so valuable; he didn't just throw words away on a whim.

Unlike herself, she reflected. She had jabbered on and on while he sat patiently, listening. She supposed he must have a lot of practice. Between his neurotic sister and energetic brother, she was surprised he could get a word in edgewise.

Still, he'd appeared to enjoy her company, and he welcomed her into his home without any reservation. It was touching, really, how sweetly he'd sat there while she droned on, and _really_ listening, too. Not just pretending to placate her. Ferb was a man of few words, but also a man of great character. She felt almost honored by this, and, with a slight pang of the guilt she'd been able to forget for the past few hours, she realized this was the first thing she'd felt truly grateful for in years.

She turned into the driveway of a hotel, parked the car and silenced the ignition. She stayed there for a moment, though, perturbed by the sudden silence. As she put her keys into her jacket pocket, her fingers brushed against something lightly. Frowning, she removed a folded piece of paper from her pocket. She unfolded it, the corners of her mouth turning up in a grin as she recognized what it was.

Smooth handwriting headed a set of instructions:

_Not-British Eggs_

Vanessa smiled contently. "Thanks, Ferb," she muttered.

**A/N: So? What's you think? Let me know ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of the fantastic support! Especially 1Ninja2Kat3 gosh, I'm touched! Honestly, I'm so very humbled, thank you!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I still do not own Phineas and Ferb **

In the days that followed, Vanessa and Ferb met with increasing regularity. They met with less intentionality than a kind of innate draw to one another; they would stumble into one another's path almost serendipitously. It became a kind of running joke between the pair. Ferb would raise his eyebrows suspiciously, as if to question her continued presence in the city, to which Vanessa would reply with an offhand remark about how he must be growing sick of her.

Of course, he never did. In fact, he grew more and more appreciative of her presence each time she smiled at him or opened up about some detail in her life.

His infatuation reached a level of uncharacteristic obviousness that even his friends began to notice. His agent remarked one night (they had been out at a bar, celebrating his film's recent success), that the famous heart-breaker of L.A. must be losing his touch after Ferb turned away not one, but two attractive women who'd approached him. Ferb merely chuckled, but his face had revealed the depth of emotion behind his façade. For someone so widely known for keeping to himself, Ferb shocked his agent by wearing his emotions plain on his sleeve.

Vanessa, similarly, found herself in a better mood than she'd been in for years. She felt so freed by her detachment from her former, evil ways, she was positively giddy—an emotion foreign to the chronically sullen woman. But it was short lived. The isolated bubble she'd encased herself in ruptured quite suddenly one afternoon, about three days after her arrival, with a phone call.

"Ma'am, I apologize for interrupting your, umm, vacation," her assistant sounded timid, but with a hint of resentment and disapproval in her voice. "but there's been some complications."

Vanessa frowned, her instincts kicking in. "What's going on?" she probed.

"We've had some clients express their concern over your absence." Her voice was firm now. "People are beginning to question how well E.I. can function without your management. Our numbers are dropping, fast. Many of your employees have received job offers with your competitors, particularly from Aloyse Everheart Elizabeth Otto Wolfgang Hypatia Gunther Galen Gary Cooper von Roddenstein."

"Wait a minute." Something clicked when the woman used Rodney's full name. "You're switching companies, aren't you?"

Her assistant hesitated. When she continued, there was a sudden harshness and determination in her tone. "I'm just not sure staying with E.I. would be the best for my career, given current circumstances. And," she added callously. "I'm not the only one who thinks so."

Vanessa stood, mouth agape, completely taken aback by the lack of loyalty from her own personnel. "Well, that's probably appropriate," she snapped. "considering the fact that, as of tomorrow, Evil Incorporated will no longer exist." It was a snap decision that shocked even Vanessa. But as soon as she said it, she knew it was true. She was done with that _evil_ part of her life.

"You can't be serious!" She sounded incredulous. "What about all of your clients? Your employees? What about your _father?_" Venom bit deep into her tone and Vanessa recoiled at the sudden fierceness in her usually docile assistant. "I've seen the records," she continued. "I know just how much of our capitol gets invested in his little side projects. I know you're just placating him, but did you ever consider how much he _relies_ on you? You know what? I'm not surprised—this is just like you, _Miss. Doofenshmirtz_. Whenever you decided to do something, you just go ahead and do it—no consideration at all for the people around you who may care about you, who may depend on you for something. So, you know what? Have a _lovely_ vacation, _ma'am_. I hope you get that advice you wanted and 'find yourself' or whatever. It's been a pleasure." _Click._

Vanessa stood, dumbfounded, listening to the dial tone for a solid two minutes. She couldn't believe what just happened. But there was some part of her that did recognize a bit of truth in those statements. Hadn't the point of traveling here been to get advice about assuaging her own guilt? And yet, all she'd done since she'd arrived was relax in the city, distancing herself from her problems instead of facing them. And her _father_…

She hadn't given a single thought about what giving up this business would do to him, not only financially, but emotionally as well. Something heavy settled in the pit of her stomach. This was so like her. Looking back on her life, she recognized this fatal character flaw. So there's a problem? Don't confront it, don't solve it: just complain or tune it out like she used to do with loud headphones and a slammed bedroom door whenever something didn't go her way.

"_God_," she muttered, running a hand through her hair, heat rising to her cheeks. "What the hell have I done?" She'd been trying to prove something to herself: that she wasn't evil, that she could stick to her guns. Instead, she'd only proved how self-absorbed and incompetent she was.

Fuming, Vanessa made for the door, intent on going for a drive to clear her head, but when she pulled it open, she found a figure in her path. Ferb stood in her doorway, arm raised mid-knock, a single rose in his free hand. Upon noticing the distress in her features, he frowned and gestured to retreat into her hotel room. Vanessa paused, then swung the door open and let him inside. What the hell, she thought.

They sat on the loveseat in front of the television, which remained turned off. Vanessa sighed and Ferb waited patiently for her to speak. "Remember how I told you about taking over my dad's business?" she began. Ferb nodded. "I don't want to go back to that, Ferb. I don't want to be evil, you know? But it's not that simple. My assistant just chewed me out over the phone…I never thought Lacey felt that way. She called me selfish, more or less, and she's right. Abandoning the company means that I abandon my dad. I know he's evil and all, but he's still my _dad_. I just don't know what the right thing to do is…" She hung her head, conflicted. Ferb reached out and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Vanessa…" She looked up, meeting his gaze. His bright eyes shined into hers, stirring up a curious feeling in her stomach. "Sometimes the right thing to do is not always apparent. Your father loves you, he will always love you—evil or not. You just have to be able to live with yourself. Personally," Ferb paused, lifting his hand from her shoulder to lightly brush away the hair falling in her face and tuck it behind her ear. Shivers ran up her spine. "I must confess that I've always had a bit of a weakness for the villain…"

Ferb leaned in slowly, tipping her chin up gently with a brush of his fingers. Then he lightly touched his lips to hers.

**A/N: Ahhh! It finally happened! Please, please, please, please, review with your thoughts **


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